Parental Evolution

The kids have been off the wall for the past hour. Coincidentally, (AHEM!) right after we ended their video game time. Their antics were to such a degree that we finally told them to go outside and play.

It’s raining and dark out, just for a data point.

Shortly after they went downstairs, I started hearing something that sounded suspiciously like the boy crying. Rather than go and investigate, however, I waited.

Sure enough, the lass came traipsing upstairs a few moments later and began a long-winded dissertation on the course of events that led up to … something. It started with the dinosaurs and ended with her losing her boots because her brother grabbed her, or something. To be honest, I never was really clear on that point.

She never mentioned her brother’s predicament, other than that he had wronged her in some way, presumably with the boot thing. So I asked her if the boy was crying.

“Yes, I went to try and clean up the mess with the mop and he tripped over the mop and fell.”

“Is there any blood?” I asked. I was playing Bubble Buster at the time.

“I didn’t notice,” she answered.

“Well, go back downstairs and if their isn’t a pool of blood on the ground, then there’s no need to come back upstairs because he’s fine,” I told her.

“OK,” she chirped and off she went.

She didn’t come back up.

Neither the Wife nor I went down.

The boy continued to “cry.”